


One Dumb Drunk Can Open Eyes

by Fae-and-night (goodgirlgonegeek16)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coming Out, Gen, Good Big Brother Dean, Teenchesters, ace!sam, background drunk!John, sex-repulsed!sam, understanding!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 11:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4623672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodgirlgonegeek16/pseuds/Fae-and-night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean learns something about his little brother, all thanks to a dumb drunk in a bar. Ace!Sam. Warning: a drunk adult comes on to a 15-year-old Sam, but doesn't actually touch him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Dumb Drunk Can Open Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I always headcanon Sam ace somewhere on the ace spectrum, so I wanted to write a little ficlet about that. This is one of my best case scenarios for Sam coming out to Dean.

The silence in the car would be unnerving, if not for the quiet puffs of the brothers’ breaths to soften it. The pair of teenagers simply watch the dusty road in front of them, listening to each other breathe and the rumble of the engine.

Eventually, Sam looks up at Dean with his big, wet hazels, looking ten years younger than he is. _Dammit_ , Dean thinks, _He's fifteen- where does he get off pouting like a toddler!_ He wishes the pout didn’t tug at his heart as it did- after all, he was supposed to be the adult here, at nineteen.

The older brother sighs, roping an arm around the kid anyway.

 

It was just a normal night, just another trip to a hunter's dive. Nobody had cared that both of them were laughably under-aged. They were just there, Dean for a couple beers, an easy hustle, and to peel their father off the floor at last call. Sam because Dean had decided that Sam needed to get his nose out of his stupid calculus book (Sam had privately agreed, which was why he was sitting there placidly). John just wanted to blow off steam after this last hunt; by "blow off steam" he of course meant get completely plastered.

All in all things were fine, really. Dean had only stepped away for a second after his beautiful destruction of a cocky "big fish" of the town, leaving his little brother safely perched on a nearby bar stool again the wall. When he returned, a pitcher in hand to ply some new comers, he blinked long and hard.

Some guy, one of the mid-thirties, scruffy barflies, was leaning over Sammy, who despite his recently acquired height, looked so fragile pushed back against the wall. Not even questioning the reason, Dean sat the beer down on a nearby table and stormed over in efficient, quick strides to yank the man back by the shoulders of his canvas jacket. Dean, who was used to the familiar smells of a career drunk, wrinkled his nose at the man's stench. The barfly worked his face into a dazed scowl.

"Bak'ff, pretty! Asaw'm firs'," the drunk gestured to Sam, while attempting to brush away Dean's hands.  
Dean frowned. That wasn't what he'd been expecting _**at all**_.  
He glanced at his brother, a patented "Is this fugly for real" eyebrow raised.

Sammy was shaking, white as a ghoul and eyes impossibly wide, legs squeezed together like a seam.  
Dean replayed the scene in his head, realizing that the drunk had been angling his face, not his fists, to meet Sam's.

He shoved the guy away in disgust. He didn't care about the man's orientation, but Sammy was only **_fifteen_** , barely older than a child- practically a _**baby**_.  
The creep attempted to push back, his booze-numb limbs sliding against Dean's chest ineffectually. "Don' care if ya wan'm t'marra, but that az's com'in home wit' me t'night."  
Dean socked the guy once in the stomach, causally gathering Sam in his other arm.  
"He's **_my_** brother, and **_I'm_** taking him home," Dean spat at the gasping drunk, steering his brother through the smoke filled room. Their dad could fend for himself tonight. Dean's got his baby brother to get home safe.

 

Dean glances down, studying Sam's face the same way Sam was studying his. After a few glances filled with the kid's sorrowful stare, the older brother finally coughs and turns back towards the road.

"You okay, Sammy?" Sam shudders, but nods, tucking his head under Dean's; Dean can feel Sam's soft, warm puffs of breath against his collarbone, reassuring Dean in a very basic, instinctual way.

"It was just so **_gross_** , Dean," Sam confesses, his voice only a little unsteady.  
Dean nods once. No matter how accepting a person was of flirtations, and Dean had received many and from all comers, women and men alike (and one ghost, but they don't talk about that), anybody who openly perved on a kid was gross. Not to mention the _**smell**_ on that guy.

Dean feels Sam shift, his shaggy locks tickling Dean's neck as the kid looped his fingers through a whole near the hem of his shirt.  
"I- I don't think I like it, Dean," he confides softly into Dean's jacket. Dean's brow furrows, suspecting they weren't discussing drunken come-ons anymore.  
"Ya don’t like what, Sammy?"  
"Flirting?" Sam tries. He hadn't known how to handle that guy back there, because he didn't know how to handle that kind of attention in any situation. Gross he can handle- what does he do every day when they hunt- but thinking about flirting with someone, **_kissing_** someone, just unsettles him deeply. He really doesn’t get why his bother seems to find so appealing about it. Not to mention the _**other**_ things he’s told Sam about, that honestly turn Sam’s stomach in a way hunting never has.

Dean chuckles. "Yeah, I didn't like it at first either, Sam, but it gets easier. Pretty soon your awkward nerdiness will mature into plain nerdiness, and you'll be able to get all the geek girls ya want," he assured Sam, moving the hand on Sam’s arm to pat one of Sam's spindly legs. Beneath his right ear, he hears his brother swallow hard.

"What if I don't want girls, Dean?" Sam breathes, his gangly body as tense as a piano wire against Dean's. "What if I don't want boys, either Dean? What if I don't _**want**_ anyone?"

Dean hears it, the raw fear in Sam's voice, the unspoken, " _What's wrong with me?_ " heavy in his tone. Dean doesn't- he doesn't know what to think, but he knows without a doubt that there was nothing wrong with his brother. So what if the kid apparently felt as much attraction as a rock? If that was how it was, well it was just one more thing that kept Sam out of trouble; it was one less thing for Sam to give up because of hunting.

Dean realizes that Sam’s still frozen beneath his arm and chin, still waiting anxiously for Dean's verdict.

Dean shrugs, "Well then, I guess I'm gonna worry less about gettin' you laid, and more about getting you drunk. Cause, seriously, we need to loosen you up some more Sammy! You're only young once." And just like that, Dean's little brother is back to normal.  
A loud huff meets the big brother’s comment, followed by an elbow to his ribs.  
"Dean!"


End file.
